


George Town, Grand Cayman

by Lyrstzha



Category: World War Z - Max Brooks
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character of Color, Chromatic Character, Disabled Character of Color, Female Character In Command, Female Character of Color, Female Characters, Female Friendship, Female Homosexuality, Female Protagonist, Female Relationships, Female-Centric, Gen, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, Lesbian Character of Color, Misses Clause Challenge, Pirates, Prison, Survivor Guilt, Women Being Awesome, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrstzha/pseuds/Lyrstzha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grand Cayman is once again known as a pirate port, a haven—albeit a dangerous one—for anyone who would rather not be found. In light of this, it is perhaps unsurprising to finally track Shauntè Griffin, Darlene Dixon, and Delia Vasquez, the crew of the <i>Maia Hailey</i>, down here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	George Town, Grand Cayman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sundancekid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundancekid/gifts).



**George Town, Grand Cayman, Cayman Islands  
[In the 17th century, Grand Cayman was known as, quite literally, a pirate port. More recently, before the War, it served as an offshore haven for the finances of more modern day pirates; the funds of terrorists, cartels, embezzlers, and crime syndicates sheltered in the plethora of shady small banks here—at that time, there were more financial institutions than citizens on the island. **

**Grand Cayman is only 227 miles south of Cuba, but it seems like a different world. Like Cuba, the Caymans emerged relatively unscathed from the War—and from the Quiet Revolution which accompanied it. During the Great Panic, quite a few of the wealthy elite from all over the world attempted to establish a stronghold here, meeting any refugees who approached the island with deadly force; this is credited as what saved them from the sad fate of overrun islands such as the Barbados. Four months later, in what is probably the least documented revolution in modern history, many of the various security personnel on the island were persuaded by local forces to revolt against their masters and establish a new regime. Grand Cayman is once again known as a pirate port, a haven—albeit a dangerous one—for anyone who would rather not be found.**

**In light of this, it is perhaps unsurprising to finally track Shauntè Griffin, Darlene Dixon, and Delia Vasquez, the crew of the _Maia Hailey_ , down here. The three woman crew seems tense and suspicious, but paradoxically eager to meet. Their ship is nowhere in evidence, and they insist on being interviewed one at a time inside the reinforced shell of a battered warehouse on North Sound Road with the other two on guard just outside. The captain of the ship, Shauntè “Tè” Griffin, who consents to be interviewed first, is lean but broad and very tall. Her hair is shorn close to the scalp in a tight afro, and her worn army fatigues bear old, dark stains. Her left arm ends in a sharp, gleaming hook, in perfect pirate fashion. She looks precisely as dangerous as rumors paint her.]**

You late. ’Bout time you came down here looking. We been waiting a long time to tell this story. Darlene always said one of you reporters would find us, sooner or later, but I was starting to wonder.

**  
_And can you tell me why it is that you’ve all waited so long to tell your story?_   
**

**[Griffin shifts uncomfortably.]** Lotta things happened, back then. Some I ain’t so proud of. Sure, we want people to know what went down, but it’s hard to talk about, you know? Not like we ain’t talked a little to some people along the way, anyhow. I guess some of them passed it on, or there wouldn’t be no rumors to get you down here, right?

And at first we was worried, too. Thought maybe Scott would try something if we talked about what happened, even though he already got enough people hating on him as it is—not like this could make it too much worse. But I figure anybody who wanna find us, maybe shut us up, well. They come after me and my girls, they gonna get more than they expect. **[She narrows her eyes warily.]** Say. You come a long way for this. You sure you ain’t working for Scott?

**  
_No. But since you bring Breckenridge Scott up, could you explain your connection to him?_   
**

I gotta start at the beginning for you? You heard the rumors. I seen what those conspiracy people say about us nowadays.

**  
_Nevertheless, could you explain?_   
**

**[She looks away for a moment and drums the fingers of her good hand against the butt of the rifle that rests on her lap.]** Okay. From the beginning. So, Scott. I used to call him names, but there ain’t nothing _bad_ enough, you know? Delia used to call him _pendejo_ , but that just…nothing’s _enough_.

No, sorry, that ain’t the beginning, not really. Not for me. For me, it all started when I got shipped home. IED took out my Humvee, killed two of my friends, and took off my arm. Gave me a pretty good kick to the spine, too, but nowadays that just means I wake up kinda stiff, and I can feel rain coming three days out. It’s better down here where it’s warm, I guess.

Anyway. I came back to my Nana’s house getting foreclosed on. Forty years she worked for the school district teaching smartass kids, and they just up and cut her pension, like that was _fair_ or some shit. Like it was some kinda _handout_ , not something she earned. So I wanted to help her out, but I was still spending all this time in rehab for my arm and my back, and I had trouble getting steady work. **[She sighs.]** I did the best I could with what I got, okay? And yeah, I knocked over the bank that was foreclosing on my Nana’s house. I ain’t saying I didn’t. I grew up in that house; Nana raised us kids after mom took off. I wasn’t gonna let some bank take it away from her, not without a fight. But how come _I_ went down for that while the bank got away with everything _they_ did? You tell me _that_. And nobody got hurt, anyway. Fucking back seized up on me when I tried to pick up the bag of money and just laid my ass out on the ground until the cops came. Stupid end to a whole day of stupid, I tell you.

So I got a nickel in Perryville, probably would have been out in two on parole. Wasn’t that different from army life, you wanna know the truth. But of course I wanted out. I still had my Nana to think about, right? One day this guy comes by my cell, saying how he can help me. He told me he worked for Breckenridge Scott, but that didn’t mean nothing to me back then. First thing I thought was he was some kinda lawyer, but then he told me he was running this big drug trial. Needed guinea pigs—“test subjects”, he said. He had all these official-looking papers saying he was approved for human trials, and there wasn’t no serious risk. Said if I agreed to be part of his test, I’d be a lab rat for six months—a year tops—then I’d be _out_.

**  
_Did you read over all those papers?_   
**

**[She snorts derisively.]** What, I look stupid to you? Course I read ’em all, real careful. They said just what he told me they would. It looked totally legit. So I signed on the dotted line to get released into his custody, and I got carted off to this complex outside Tucson. At first it wasn’t so bad. There was only thirty girls, all from Perryville. We got jabbed with some needles every couple of days—running tests to get baselines, I guess. Mostly they just stuck us four to a room and let us alone to watch TV, long as we didn’t make no fuss. And we was all hoping to get out ASAP, so we mostly did keep things quiet.

First sign I had things was going bad was when I heard screaming one night, maybe two weeks in. Darlene—I tell you she was one of my cellies in that place? Well, she was. That night, when the screaming cut off all sudden, she started carrying on about how we was all gonna get infected with ebola or dissected or something. Said she saw on the History Channel how something like that happened once, back in the thirties. Shook us all up good, I can tell you. So the next day, when the guards took us up to the clinic so the nurses could stick us with more needles, I asked what the screaming was all about. The nurse looked me right in the eye and told me some of the girls started talking trash and mixed it up until they cut each other bad. **[She leans forward and drops her voice confidingly.]** Something not everybody knows about me is that I can tell when a girl’s lying to me. You leave as many girls home alone as I done while I was in the army, you get to know when they lying about what they been up to while you was gone. And I _knew_ this bitch was lying through her fucking teeth. So I started passing notes, way we used to do back in Perryville. Get you a good counterweight in a sock, and you can swing small shit from one window over to the next, no problem. I took a headcount of everybody that way, and by the end of the day, I knew four people wasn’t answering.

It was these four girls who was in the farthest cell on our floor. Had been, anyway. So I sent over to the girls in the cell next to them, asking what they knew. Took a while for the answer to come back, but next day I got their note. They said yeah, they heard screaming, but they was close enough they also heard the _words_. Note said those girls was screaming for help, begging for something to stop, before everything went quiet as the grave. Darlene just about had a heart attack when we read that, and I started to figure she might be on to something with all that History Channel stuff.

Long story short, we tried to start up a riot. Course we didn’t wanna go back to Perryville or whatever, but spending a couple years on lockdown and maybe getting shanked in the yard didn’t look so bad right then. I guess they was expecting the riot, ’cause they shut us down quick. A few flash-bangs, some tear gas, and it was pretty much all over before it even really got going.

_  
**Were you punished for trying to riot?**   
_

You’d think yeah, wouldn’t you? But we wasn’t, and that was almost worse. It was like they knew they was already doing something so bad to us, it couldn’t _get_ worse. They kept us locked down a lot tighter after that, though. And there was more screaming, more girls who just stopped showing up in the mess or answering notes. We made some pretty desperate plans, most of ’em pretty dumb. **[There’s a long pause, and Griffin’s gaze seems to be focused on something far away.]** Probably wouldn’t none of ’em have worked. But it was about that time I saw this news story about Phalanx on TV.

**  
_Do you know how long this was before the Great Panic?_   
**

About a year before, maybe. They was still calling it “African Rabies” back then, and saying how Phalanx could protect against any kind of rabies. **[She bares her teeth in a fierce, humorless grin.]** I hear that’s true. Shame the Zs don’t actually _have_ rabies, ain’t it?

Anyway, that’s the second place I heard the name Breckenridge Scott. I started putting two and two together then, figured we was being infected with this “African Rabies” to test Phalanx. What _else_ would he be testing?

**  
_But Phalanx was already on the market by that time, and it’s notoriously well documented that it treats rabies, but was never actually tested against the Solanum virus. Even Scott admits Phalanx was a scam._   
**

Yeah, but I didn’t know about that back _then_. And sure, everybody knows that Phalanx don’t do you no more good against infection than wishful thinking. But I tell you, his people was testing _something_ against Solanum. Sure he admits he didn’t test Phalanx on it. You think of a better way to keep people from wondering if he _did_ test something else?

**  
_How can you be so sure?_   
**

**[She glares coldly, jaw clenched and fist closed tightly around her gun.]** How can I be so sure? _How can I be so sure?_ I’ma tell you _how I can be so sure_ , all right. I can be so sure because those missing girls turned up a few weeks later, every last one of ’em gone Z. I can be so sure because when those Z-girls got loose and started tearing the place up, three guards hid in our cell with the rest of us trapped rats, and they _talked_. One of ’em was all for trying to get to the infirmary for what he just called “the vaccination”, but the others told him not to be stupid, ’cause if had worked, those girls wouldn’t have turned in the first place.

**  
_Then the mystery drug they were testing didn’t work at all?_   
**

No. I didn’t get a full count of all the girls gone missing, but from the way those guards talked, that’s what I believe. I think Scott put out Phalanx to make a quick buck, maybe pay for the tests of this other thing, and then gave it up and took off for fucking Antarctica when it didn’t work. If it _had_ worked, I guess he coulda held the whole damn _world_ hostage. He’d be richer than god now, if you think about it.

**  
_So how did you and the others escape from the testing facility?_   
**

**[She shifts in her seat and looks away.]** Yeah, that’s the hard part. We could hear a group of Zs right outside our door, clawing to get in. We was the last occupied room on our wing by then, at least a couple doors away from anybody else, so I guess there wasn’t much else around to fix on. And those guards with us, they was panicked pretty good, started talking some shit about using us as decoys to get to the exit. See, there was four doors to pass through to get out, counting our cell door, and the guards figured there was four of _us_ , too. I stood right there while they shot Tricia in the leg and opened the door. Zs go for bleeding targets first, you know. And I ran out with the rest of them and didn’t do _nothing_ for her. **[Her voice goes very quiet.]** I’ma be ashamed of that ’til the day I die.

 **[After a long pause, she swallows audibly and continues.]** Turned out to be three of them outside our door. Once we got out in the hall, the guards shut the door and locked ’em in, nice and neat unless you count Tricia screaming while she got tore up. I never heard anything so bad in all my life, and that’s counting the war. The guards made us run in front of them as we made for the way out, and when we ran up against Zs, we had to hit the ground fast so we wasn’t in the line of fire, or those dumb mofos would’ve shot our asses. That’s how the six of us made it to the next door, and _that’s_ where one of those fucking guards shot me in the leg to use as bait. But Darlene’s gonna take it from here, ’cause I was in and out after that, and I don’t remember it too well.

**[Tè Griffin lets out a low double whistle and rises to go just as the door opens on Darlene Dixon.**

**Darlene is about average height and weight, with short dishwater blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She has the gravelly voice and leathery skin of a long-time smoker. She wears faded jeans, a leopard-print T-shirt, and scuffed cowboy boots. She sits down in the chair just vacated by Griffin and props her feet up on the chair next to her.]**

You know what’s funny? I waitressed in a truck stop for twenty goddamned miserable years while my Ray drank most every penny I ever managed to save, and lots of times I thought that the end of the world might be a nice change. Careful what you wish for, huh? I prayed for the Rapture some days, not that I really believed anybody was listening.

Speaking of the almighty and the apocalypse, when I was a girl, Daddy worked at a refinery down in nowhere south Texas. We lived in this old doublewide out in a trailer park at the end of this gravel road. On one side of us lived a family of twelve in a battered old school bus. One night, maybe about three in the morning, I woke up to this _sound_. It was like it came from everywhere all at once. It rumbled right down into the marrow of my bones. It was so loud it shook the ground. I remember going outside into the night, which was usually dark as pitch so far from the city lights. This time, though, a great red light, like a sunrise or something, glowed low in the sky to the south. I looked over and saw that school bus family on their knees in the middle of the gravel road. I couldn’t hear them over the roar until I got closer, but I could see them raising their hands in prayer to the sky. When I got near enough, I could hear them begging for Jesus to take them up.

Later, of course, it turned out that one of the refineries to the south of us had exploded and was burning. When I think about the apocalypse, I remember that family, on their skinned knees in the road, praying to an oil fire. Kinda felt silly about the whole god thing ever after, though I never told my folks I thought that way. They were good Southern Baptists, went to church every Sunday. Daddy would have whipped me good, and Momma would have washed my mouth out with soap. Of course, they did that anyway when I took up with Ray—at least, they did until we got married and that sorry bastard dragged me off to godforsaken Arizona. Then they just told me I’d be sorry one day, and I guess that’s true, or I’d never have cracked Ray’s skull open with that frying pan. Knew I should’ve married me that nice Gaines boy after all; he became a contractor and everything, really made something of himself.

Oh, but where’s my head at? Listen to me just rambling away over here! That’s not what you came to hear, is it? Sorry, hon. I get sidetracked so easy sometimes. Where do you want me to start?

**  
_Could you tell me how your group escaped from the medical testing facility after Captain Griffin was shot?_   
**

Yeah, I suppose I might could do that. **[She sighs and shakes her head a little.]** I guess Tè told you we were three doors from the exit when those bastards shot her. Three doors to go, three of us prisoners left— Tè, Maia Hailey, and me. And Tè was supposed to be door number three. But the thing is, I guess Maia and me figured getting shot couldn’t be worse than what had happened to Tricia Stearns. Also, of course, Maia was Tè’s girl. Usually it was Tè being all protective of Maia, but it could go both ways—and it did, that day. When that fat guard shot Tè, Maia let out this shriek and just _threw_ herself at him. I suppose they didn’t want to shoot her until they needed to—they’d be short a door if they did, right?—so he and one of the others tried to wrestle her off while the third one kept his gun on me.

That’s when I stared over his shoulder, pointed a shaking finger, and whispered, “Oh my god!”

Yeah, I know it sounds simple, but I sold it _hard_. I coulda been in _pictures_ , I tell you what. Sure enough, he turned around to look, and that’s when I let him have it with a punch to the back of his head and a foot in the pit of his knee. Waitressing, you learn a lot about how to put a man down; you’d be surprised. He went down on the ground faster’n a two-dollar whore, and he dropped his gun as he fell. I went scrambling after it while he grabbed at my leg, but I got in a lucky kick to the face. The whole thing took less than half a minute, and then I had the gun.

When I looked over, the other two were still trying to pull Maia off, but she was kicking and clawing like a wildcat. So I shot the fat one right in the kneecap.

**  
_Given the struggle, that must have been a tricky shot._   
**

Bless your heart! **[She laughs.]** I’m sorry, hon, but what part of “grew up the daughter of Southern Baptists in a trailer in rural Texas” did you not understand? Daddy took me out shooting at cans before I lost my first baby tooth and bought me my first gun when I turned twelve. So yeah, I nailed the shot, no problem. And _that_ got everybody’s attention, believe you me. I had the drop on those assholes but _good_.

Then the shoe was on the other foot, all right. Maybe it was cold, but I’ll admit it: I turned their plan right around back on them. I had Maia take the guard’s remaining guns, bind up Tè’s wound best she could, then drag her off to the side while I opened the next door and let five zombies in to chow down on Mr. No-Kneecap while the rest of us made a break for it. And it worked. **[She gives a half-shrug]** Well, I had to shoot one Z because Maia couldn’t drag Tè very fast, but aside from that, just like clockwork.

The guards tried to take us down at the next door, but I shot one in the belly and the other in the shoulder. I wanted to save one for the last door, see. But they were so panicked the shoulder shot wasn’t enough. I had to shoot that old boy right through the chest to stop him. Then we couldn’t drag him, of course—not while dragging Tè, too. She’s pretty heavy, and she was totally out of it by that point, so I had to help Maia carry her. I was feeling pretty desperate right then, because I could hear at least six different moans coming from the other side of that door, and I couldn’t see how I could get all three of us past while carrying Tè, not even with two decoys. What I was going to do for the last door, I didn’t even want to think. You know, I actually went so far as to pray. I reckoned it couldn’t hurt, after all. I think I had some hope that there might be someone left in the next wing on the other side of that door. I thought maybe if we could meet up with more prisoners, we might could get out okay together. So there was no two ways about it, I had to open the door. If we waited any longer, those two guards were going to up and finish dying, and then they wouldn’t work as bait. So I crossed my fingers and opened the door, and just like I thought, a whole mess of Zs came through. Four of them went for the guards on the floor, but another four turned on us. I had to drop Tè to get the gun up to shoot one.

And that’s when Delia came along. One minute it was just Zs stumbling into the room, the next I heard this voice yelling “Get down!” Next thing I know, this tiny little thing comes barreling out of one of the cells beyond the door I’d just opened. She charged right up behind those Zs, hollering and swinging this metal bar—she told us later it was part of one of the machines in the infirmary. You wouldn’t know it to look at her, but Delia can really swing a club when she sets her mind to it. She took down two, and I got the last one. Then I helped Maia get Tè through the door so we could shut the last four behind us in with the guards.

**  
_So Delia Vasquez was one of the prisoners from the next wing over?_   
**

That’s right. She had been rooming with Keshia, Ashley, and Pam, apparently. She was pretty new, just brought in from Perryville that week where she’d been doing seven for muling drugs across the border. I guess they’d brought her in to replace the lab rats who didn’t work out. What a first week, huh? And they’d tried to make a break for it together, but they’d run into more than they could handle, and only Delia had made it back into their cell to hide out. She said she’d been waiting for someone to come, and she’d heard the gunshots and decided to take a chance on opening her cell door. Good thing, too! Ain't none of us would have made it out if she hadn’t.

So there we were, Maia and me dragging Tè and Delia catching us up on what had happened to her, when we came to the next door. It was the last one before the hallway to the offices, the lobby, and freedom. I’d been thinking we might have an easier time with that door, since the infected gals shouldn’t’ve been outside the prisoners’ wings. Trouble was, there were more people must’ve got bit after shit started to go down, because we could hear a whole lotta Zs on the other side, and we had no guards left. You know I actually thought about leaving Maia and Delia there and going back to see if I could hunt up some more? It crossed my mind that there should still be some doctors holed up in the infirmary who might make easier targets, too. I mentioned that, but Delia said she’d gone that far and hadn’t seen anybody, so I guess they got out when things first started to go pear-shaped.

Well, we sat down to rest for a bit and talk it over. We talked about making a stand and trying to fight our way out, but I’d used seven bullets already myself, and the mag had been light by six shots by the time I’d taken it off the guard in the first place. Upshot was, **[she grins and chuckles]** if you’ll pardon the pun, there were only two shots left in my gun. We checked the other two guns we’d collected, but one was down to three, and the other one also had two. I guess the guards had used up a lot of shots when the infected gals first broke out.

So. **[She lifts her chin like she’s bracing herself, and her hands clench on the table edge so hard her knuckles go white.]** I did the only thing I could think to do. I suggested we stick with what had worked so far.

**  
_You suggested that one of you act as bait?_   
**

Yes, I did. I suggested we draw straws—well, bullets—for it. But Tè was half-awake for a couple minutes about then, and she kept on insisting that it should be her, on account of how she was already wounded anyway. And then she passed out cold again, and Maia said we shouldn’t listen to her. But fuck me if I didn’t argue that it made sense and we should do it. **[She looks away and quickly brushes at her eyes roughly.]** I’m not sorry about the guards. But that, that I’m ashamed of. You know the one good thing about sinking that low? Once you’ve had to look yourself in the mirror after something like that, you _know_ , and I mean for _damn_ sure, that there are some things more important than living. And you know you will never be so weak again, because it sure as hell ain’t worth it. If you gotta print that part, well, I guess you gotta, but I can’t say as I’m good with people knowing I did that.

**  
_So how did Captain Griffin get out alive?_   
**

Hold your horses, hon; I’m getting there. So, like I was saying, I pushed the notion of Tè staying behind. Of course I should have cottoned on that something wasn’t right when Maia didn’t kick up more of a fuss about it. I mean, in hindsight it’s pretty obvious that she should have stood her ground on that one, right? But I guess I wasn’t thinking totally straight by then, or maybe I just didn’t _want_ to think about the situation. So we each took up a gun and I stood back, on account of being our best shot, while Delia opened the door.

Something like a dozen Zs came through that door. **[She shudders.]** It was a sight, let me tell you. So I started shooting ’em down, calm as I could, just to thin out the pack enough for us to squeeze by. And then Maia, she just rakes her fingernails down one arm so there’s blood, and she starts waving her bleeding arm around and yelling for us to take Tè and get out. Then, I swear, she fucking _tackled_ the front line of them head on. I ain’t ever seen anything so goddamned brave in my life.

 **[She pauses for a long moment.]** You know, I’ve given a lot of thought to why she didn’t just shoot me and get out with Tè herself. Or tell me what she was fixing to do before we opened the door, at least. And the only thing I can think is she _was_ planning to shoot me and run for it, but she changed her mind at the last minute. **[She shrugs.]** Nothing else really makes any sense. And I’d like to say I wouldn’t’ve shot her first and left her if I’d thought she was planning to go for me, but…in that moment? I think I might have done it. She was better than me. Anybody ever asks why our boat is called the _Maia Hailey_ , well, _that’s_ why.

**  
_So you and Delia Vasquez got Captain Griffin through the door while Maia Hailey stayed behind?_   
**

Right. And we used up the last of our bullets getting to the lobby, and from there it was mostly Delia’s metal club that got us out while I dragged Tè. Thank goodness there were less Zs in the lobby. Once we got outside, Delia jammed her club in the front door to keep it closed, and I hotwired us a car in the parking lot. Guess my time with that no-account Ray actually was good for _something_ after all, because it worked just like he told me. I drove us into Tucson, and Delia gave me directions to a clinic that didn’t ask too many questions. I suppose when you’re illegal you need to know stuff like that.

After we got Tè patched up, we tried to figure out our next move. We weren’t too sure what we should do, see? We wanted to warn people, but we _didn’t_ want to get taken back to Perryville—or worse, back to the lab. We figured Scott might even just send hit men after us or something. Who’d’ve listened to us? So we stayed together and kept a low profile, just in case anyone was looking. I even started praying of an evening, though I still don’t know as I think anybody’s listening. Any port in a storm, though, right? I guess when times are bad, at heart we’re all just on our knees in a gravel road, hoping that light in the sky ain’t just an oil fire.

Anyway, that same day Delia called some friends of hers. Her former employers, if you know what I mean. I didn’t want to ask too many questions. But they took care of it, I’ll give ’em that. We heard on the news the very next day how there’d been a big explosion out at a research facility in the desert. Totally wiped that place off the map. But I think Delia wants to tie up those loose ends for you herself.

**[Darlene Dixon kicks her feet off the table and gives the same low double whistle that Griffin had earlier. A scant moment later, the door opens and Delia Vasquez smoothly trades places with Dixon.**

**Delia Vasquez is, at most, a few inches above five feet. She is a slight, delicately-built woman with her black hair pulled up in a bun whose face gives the impression of being mostly dark eyes. Her voice is soft, and carries a marked accent. She wears a loose knit pants and shirt in dark green, and her movements are small and understated; the effect shouldn’t be striking, but her piercing, unwavering gaze makes it so anyway.]**

You want to know what I did about Scott’s lab, _sí_?

**  
_Yes, please. Could you be more specific about your contacts and what they did?_   
**

I can. **[She pauses there, but does not look away. Her stare, if anything, becomes even more intense.]** I am sure Darlene told you that I was at Perryville for carrying drugs across the border. I told her this long ago, how the cartel forced me to carry for them to pay off a debt my family owed them. I have told her—told them both—so much about my life in Monterrey over the years. They have been so good to me, so kind and understanding about the family I lost. **[She leans closer across the table, and when she speaks again, her accent is noticeably fainter.]** But that, as Darlene would say, is all bullshit.

**  
_You aren’t from Monterrey, you don’t have a family, or you didn’t work for a drug cartel?_   
**

Yes. Or, well. I _am_ from Monterrey, and I suppose I had _some_ family. But mostly, yes.

**  
_Then why were you at Perryville?_   
**

**[She smiles a little, but it doesn’t look like happiness.]** I never was. I have never even _seen_ this Perryville. I came to the States for medical school. The only drugs I have ever moved are prescription, and I have no connections to any cartel.

**  
_Then what were you doing at the research facility?_   
**

Ah, you begin to understand; I can see it in your face. You suspect I was not a test subject at all, but a doctor there. **[She raises an eyebrow.]** You are very good at keeping your face still. I can see almost no judgment at all there. You would make an excellent poker player, do you know? And you are right. I _was_ one of the doctors. Scott recruited me to the Centurion project from a study I’d been working on at Johns Hopkins about retroviruses. I was director of research at the facility. **[She finally breaks her gaze to glance briefly at the closed door behind her.]** But that is not something I could tell them when we met. I am entirely certain that Darlene would have shot me…and I cannot blame her.

**[She turns back to face me again, but her eyes squeeze shut briefly, as if in pain, and her breath catches in her throat.]**

****We did hard things in those tests. Hard, terrible things I will carry on my soul and never forget until the day I die. But think of my choices. I was a _doctor_ , do you see? More, a doctor studying Solanum in particular. I understood what was happening, what the scope of the infection would be, better than anyone else. I knew _billions_ of lives rested in my hands. And so I sacrificed a few that many more might be saved. It was a horrible choice no one should ever have to make, and there was no one else to make it. I will always be sorry for making that choice, but I cannot say it was the wrong one, or that I would choose differently if I had it to do over again. For the chance to save the world from suffering and devastation, what should we _not_ do? What price is not worth that?

**  
_So it was you who was in charge of the tests. Did you discover anything?_   
**

**[For the first time, she flinches a little.]** No. Much would be forgiven if I had, don’t you think? But the subjects overran the complex too early in the first phase, and I never got far enough to make any useable conclusions. No, after everything that happened, I have nothing to show for it. And that is my true crime, I think. All those deaths for a higher purpose, and it turned out to be for nothing after all. But I remember each of them, you know. I learned their names, their stories. I owed them that—the _world_ owed them that. I have made you a list. **[She pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and slides it across the table.]** I want you to publish their names. Let people know who they were and how they died. That, too, I owe them.

**  
_And have you ever attempted to resume the project?_   
**

**[Her eyebrow arches.]** I must admire the way you inquired that with absolutely no tone in your voice at all. But the answer is no. Maybe I should, but... **[She shakes her head.]** Intellectually I can say that the greater good is the most important consideration, but I simply _cannot_ go through that again. Perhaps that makes me weak; I really do not know anymore. All I know is that my heart is already too full.

 **[After a moment of silence, she sighs deeply, like a weight has been lifted from her.]** Is there anything else you wanted to know?

**  
_Who was it that you called afterwards? Who destroyed the facility?_   
**

Ah, yes. You have not guessed? Scott, of course. Who else would be so eager to destroy the evidence of what we had done? And I think you’ll find if you check the dates that that is when he fled the States. And now he sits in an Antarctic palace, sorry for nothing and paying for nothing, as ever. So that, too, is something I carry on my conscience.

**  
_One last question. Why are you revealing all this now, or at all?_   
**

There is a song from Spain my _abuelita_ used to sing to me when I was a girl, " _Al Pasar la Barca_ ". You have not heard of it? No, I thought not. It is a song about a beautiful girl who wants to ride the ferry. The ferryman tells her that she need not pay, because beautiful girls ride for free. “ _Yo no soy bonita, ni lo quiero ser_ ," she answers him. It means, "I am not a beautiful girl, nor do I wish to be." Because she does not want to be _beautiful_ , she wants to have real worth. She wants what she merits; she wants to _pay_. Do you see? I have had a good life with my sisters. They have been my only family for so long now, and I have never told them these things I have told you. They have looked at me as though I were good and dear and worthy to be loved. So much I have carried so long, and lied to those who deserved better from me.

**[She smiles a little, but there are tears running down her face.]**

After all this time, I cannot pretend to be a beautiful girl anymore. I want to pay. Tell the world. Tell _them_. **[Here she gestures at the door with one small, fine-boned hand.]** And then it will finally be done, forever and ever, amen. _Ya basta_.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> 1) pendejo: literally "pubic hair", idiomatically "dumbass"  
> 2) sí: "yes"  
> 3) abuelita: affectionate form of "grandmother"  
> 4) Al Pasar la Barca: "When the Boat Was Leaving"  
> 5) Yo no soy bonita, ni lo quiero ser: "I am not a beautiful girl, nor do I wish to be"  
> 6) Ya basta: Idiomatically, roughly "Enough is enough"


End file.
